


Stimulation

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 10:23:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the Les Mis kink meme. Feuilly and Jehan, frottage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stimulation

Feuilly and Jehan were both a little tipsy when they stumbled into the long, narrow hall between the Café Musain and its backroom, closing the door behind them with Jehan giggling, and Feuilly just managing to hold back his own little chuckles behind pursed lips.

Jehan stumbled and then laughed, dropping back to lean against the wall. “Come-come kiss-” And Feuilly obeyed, leaning and kissing the shorter man, his hands either side of Jehan’s shoulder so he could brace himself as he did so.

Jehan had been drinking sweet, fruity cocktails all night, and now Feuilly tasted those gorgeous, lingering tastes on his tongue, pressing his tongue forwards and just  _taking_  Jehan’s mouth in the way he knew the other man loved.

The poet threw his arms around Feuilly’s neck, spreading his legs a little and letting Feuilly stand close, Feuilly with one hand on Jehan’s hip to keep him steady and the other cupping his cheek. Jehan bit at Feuilly’s lip, and Feuilly effectively punished him by dragging his tongue over the roof of the other’s mouth, drawing a desperate yelp from Jehan’s mouth.

And then shit, fuck, his hips were grinding forwards against the muscle of Feuilly’s thigh, and Feuilly let out a choked noise against Jehan’s mouth. “God, kid, we can’t-“

Jehan bucked his hips up again, baring his neck and letting out a plaintive little whimper of sound, “ _Please_ , Feuilly-” And God, Feuilly prided himself on his temperance, but even he didn’t have that much self control. 

He put his leg forwards, thigh firmly pressed between Jehan’s legs, and the younger man let out a desperate, tiny mewl, fucking his hips up and against Feuilly’s leg as the working man captured him in a kiss again. He tangled a hand in Jehan’s hair, sending at least two clips and a flower to the floor, but for now, he couldn’t give a fuck, because Jehan was whining and keening against Feuilly’s lips, trembling as he fucked himself forwards, and Feuilly couldn’t help but grind himself against the other’s hip. 

Jehan’s orgasm came with a stuttered cry, and Feuilly pulled back as Prouvaire filled his lungs with needy gasps for breath, clinging to Feuilly’s lapels with tight fists. “God, Jehan.”

"Yeah." Jehan said in a little voice, blinking slowly, and he was still tipsy as he stood, shifting with a face of discomfort. 

"You came in your pants."

"You are a verifiable figure of attraction and a provoker of sexual mischief." was all Jehan returned, and Feuilly caught him under the knees and at his back, lifting the poet bridal style and carrying him down the corridor as Jehan let out a delighted giggle.

"I didn’t provoke you."

"You rather did. You, with your face and your highs and your lips, and your skilful hands." Jehan complained woefully, and Feuilly laughed as he carried him forwards.

"I am going to take you apart when we get home."

"Oh, God, yes, sounds fantastic!"


End file.
